


Equilibria

by indubitably_tara



Series: Sensory [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Death, Genocide, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Religion, Sad, Tragedy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:18:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1407961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indubitably_tara/pseuds/indubitably_tara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return. <br/>- Leonardo Da Vinci </p>
            </blockquote>





	Equilibria

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Swan Lake, Op. 20, Act II, 10. Scene.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVBNVR1wQT8
> 
> I need to stop writing sad things.

  
Sunstorm softly glided to one of the landing balconies belonging to the Temple. After landing, he stood for a moment, soaking in the divine chants sung by priests and allowing them to soothe his spark. As he walked in to the main chamber, he saw several priests and acolytes kneeling before the massive statues of Primus and his Thirteen.  
  
"My brother Sunstorm, how wonderful it is to see you!" Sunstorm jumped at the calling voice. He turned on his thruster and looked over at the speaker, smiling.  
  
"My brother Laurelwing," he responded in kind, grasping the other's forearm while tilting his wings up and in. "I feel the same. Have you room for one more?" He asked, gesturing at the praying mechs.  
  
"Oh always, always! Please come in, though you know your way around already, I'm sure." With a laugh, Laurelwing escorted Sunstorm into his home away from home.  
  
They trekked to a private room to speak and pray, conversing easily and amiably along the way.  
  
Once they were both inside the room, Laurelwing shut the door quietly and turned to his friend with a pensive expression.  
  
"I know it's not my place, but I'm concerned with the state of the planet, Sunny. I've had a sinking feeling in my spark for quite some time now."  
  
Sunstorm stared. He could count the number of times Laurelwing talked politics on one servo. And before this point, he wasn't even sure Laurelwing knew the weight of the situation. Sunstorm looked out the window to hide his apprehension.  
  
"It's just another uprising," he soothed, "Kaon has them all the time, and… " here Sunstorm forced a grin and put a servo on the other's shoulder, "and Winglord Starscream says we have no reason to fear. His Highness is Primus-blessed, yes?"  
  
"Of course!" Laurelwing chimed, pearl-grey wings lowering as his worry and fear began to fade.  
  
Sunstorm nodded, maintaining his false composure. "Then we must follow Our Winglord as Primus guides him. And He would not lead us astray."

* * *

Afterward, laying in stained and shattered glass, Sunstorm received a shortwave comm from someone who spoke his dialect. Within it, a set of coordinates. He smiled a real smile, sitting up and turning to Laurelwing.  
  
"That's walking distance, Laurel! I know neither of us can fly right now, but if we walk, Primus will see us there!" Sunstorm paid careful attention to Laurelwing's shredded wings as he lifted him onto his back, ignoring the alerts from his own torn wings.  
  
He climbed over piles of rocks, many of which were very pretty. He apologized and gave a prayer when he had to step on the great statue of Primus to get to safer ground.  
  
"Hey Laurel, look at those rocks over there. I bet it's some kind of political art installment by the Museum of Painting and Sculpture. I greatly dislike political art, though occasionally it's really lovely.  For example, those rocks. They look exactly like the Youngling Center, but destroyed! The sculptor must be really anti-violence, don't you agree?" But Laurelwing didn't agree - he didn't answer.  
  
Sunstorm adjusted Laurelwing so the other could be more comfortable. "It's okay that you can't speak right now. I'll get you to a medic and sooner than you know it, you'll be flying right beside me!"  
  
Sunstorm kept up a steady stream of babble on the walk so Laurelwing didn't get depressed about his injured wings. It wasn't two joors before the two arrived at the set coordinates.  
  
There was a sprawling tent city, with medics (identified by sigils on their wings) dashing from tent to tent. Sunstorm saw one of them resting and drinking a cube of energon a few meters away.  
  
"Hello?" Sunstorm grinned easily, "my friend and I hurt. Could you please fix our wings?" The medic sighed and shuttered his optics before turning to Sunstorm and blanching.  
  
"Sir, pardon, but to which friend are you referring?"  
  
Sunstorm laughed and brought Laurelwing around to cradle him in his arms. "This one! Laurelwing! He just needs his wings fixed, if you could? He likes flying in the mornings, so can he be fixed before me so he can fly tomorrow morning."  
  
The medic's careful stare dissolved in to something like pity.  
  
"I can't fix your friend, I'm sorry."  
  
"It's just his wings, you've fixed hundreds of wing wounds, correct?"  
  
"I have," the medic agreed, "but I have never been able to fix an impaled spark chamber. I'm sorry."  
  
Sunstorm frowned and glanced down at Laurelwing. "It's just his wings. Please fix his wings."  
  
The young mech took a step back, palms up. "Your friend is dead. I cannot fix a dead mech."  
  
"No!" Sunstorm shouted, clutching Laurelwing closer. "His wings are broken! Fix them!"  
  
"I'm sorry." The medic said before he ducked into the nearest tent.  
  
"Come back! Fix his wings!" Sunstorm spun in a circle out of anxiety. "Someone, fix his wings, please!" But passing medics kept their distance before moving to a different tent. "He won't be able to fly…" He pleaded to them. After breems of being ignored, he leant his head to pray.  
  
"Primus, Giver of Life, save my Laurelwing. Primus, Maker of Light, save my Laurelwing." Sunstorm would pray until dawn before noticing Laurelwing's grey was the wrong shade.

* * *

 

"Okay, okay, and then the crook shot off fast as he could, right? 'Cause he was stupid. But he was also kinda fast. And I gotta say, he had a nice aft." The assorted security enforcers told Skywarp exactly what they thought of that sentiment. With the help of an obscene gesture from the storyteller, they settled down.  
  
" _As I was saying_ , Nice Aft-Criminal Guy flies off thinking he can get away from the enforcers like they all do. I follow leisurely behind him through the Art District as he's duckin'," Skywarp ducked, "and rollin', and corkscrewin', like some cool guy. When I get tired of the chase, _vop_!" A chuckle rippled through the hefty crowd that had assembled. They knew what had happened, but they let Skywarp continue anyway. "And mechs, you should've seen the look on his faceplates. Here - I'll do an impression!"  
  
 He wiggled his wings dramatically, turned away from the enforcers and waited a klik for them to calm. " _Vop_!" he yelled, and proceeded to reenact the facial expression of the other flier. A mix of oh slag and kill me now. Cheers went up at the (melodramatic) display and Skywarp bowed.  
  
Thundercracker shook his helm and walked away, heading to Sureshock's desk to ask for that overdue -  
  
"TC!" Skywarp jogged up behind him and held steadfastly to his arm, jiggling his wings excitedly. "Did you hear my story?"  
  
"I heard your story. And it's Commissioner while at work, Sky."  
  
"But did you like my story?" He asked as they picked up the report, Thundercracker nodding to his subordinate in thanks.  
  
The duo turned toward Thundercracker's office, Skywarp hanging off of the larger seeker's arm like a lovestruck youngling - which, technically, he was. "I thought your prolonged chase was an unnecessary use of resources, time, and energy. And you could've hurt someone." Thundercracker could feel the frown in Skywarp's field.  
  
"But I found the suspect's expression after you teleported entertaining." Skywarp lit up and jogged ahead of his companion only to close the door to Thundercracker's office when the other was inside. The office was grey and minimalistic, sparsely decorated and held Thundercracker's many service awards. The customary ceiling-to-floor windows adorned the north wall, letting light into the office and providing a entrance to the landing balcony.  
  
Skywarp moved toward the windows to watch others fly by.  
  
"Starscream wanted to ask you out for energon tonight at that ritzy place I don't like." Thundercracker set his armful of reports down and gave a small smile.  
  
"Were those His Majesty's exact words?" Sometimes he referred to Starscream by a title just to see the face Skywarp made.  
  
"Nah, his were fancier and would've made you say yes real quick. Me?" He hopped onto the desk in front of Thundercracker, pulling him down into a searing kiss and wrapping his legs around the other's hips. "Me, I prefer more unsavory methods." Thundercracker's optics were bright as he leaned down for another peck.  
  
"This isn't how courting goes, Sky."  
  
"Don't see you complaining."  
  
"Tell Starscream that if work permits I would be honored to dine with you two tonight at the Crimson Calomel." He untangled himself from Skywarp, but not before receiving another quick kiss.  
  
"The reservation is set!"

* * *

 

"Stay with me, Sky!"  
  
"I need to find Starscream, I don't know where Starscream is!" Skywarp kept trying to veer from Thundercracker's set course, but Thundercracker would just corral him back into formation for each attempt. Wounded, tired, and slightly hysterical, Skywarp was reaching his limit on listening to orders.  
  
Debris came shooting at them as bombs exploded and more missiles met their intended targets. Fliers dropped out of the sky as vital components were hit and they were no longer able to stay in the air. Some combusted mid-flight as flaming shrapnel tore through an energon line and ignited the mech.  
  
"I need to land TC, I can't feel my thruster! Is it working? I can't fly with only one working!" Skywarp yelled. His youth was clear in his voice as full-on hysteria finally tore through it.  
  
"They're both working fine, Skywarp. Stay flanked and follow me swiftly." Thundercracker helped them fly out of the city, a few mechs desperately tagging along to be lead out.  
  
He lost track of how long he flew, only landing when he saw a steep canyon inaccessible to ground-bound mechs.  
  
"Settle here!" He ordered the group of tired and frightened seekers.  
  
Several hazy joors later, after Thundercracker passed command to an Elder, he turned to a clingy Skywarp.  
  
"I have to check on my enforcers, Skywarp. I'll be back."  
  
Skywarp panicked.  
  
"No, no, please don't leave! Trine doesn't leave trine! We're trine, Thundercracker."  
  
"I'd like to be your trine mate, but it isn't offi - we have vorns of courting and still a ceremony and - " but the look Skywarp gave was one of utter desolation and hopelessness.  
  
"You're my trine, TC. Please don't leave. If you leave, you'll die, and I'll be alone. Please."  
  
"Sky, you - I have a duty to my mechs and to my city. I need to confirm a headcount, and continue from there."  
  
Skywarp wailed, making several heads turn. Thundercracker finally snapped.  
  
"Grow _up_ , Skywarp! Thousands dead, thousands missing. Vos is gone - Vos has fallen. I need to make sure we don't fall with it." At Skywarp's pained look, Thundercracker released his shoulders, refusing to acknowledge the dents.  
  
"Please, just grow up." He said, and flew away.  
  
Vorns later, when Skywarp murdered someone in a prank, Thundercracker realized that had been the wrong thing to say.

* * *

To a Seeker, the sensation of falling was either exhilarating or ghastly, depending on the circumstance. Each knew the sensation and feared it as much as they respected it.  
  
Starscream understood what it was to fall. He had fallen out of favor with the Council of Ancients. And now, it seemed he had fallen from grace.  
  
He hung in the sky as if from a noose and glared at the empty space a floating Vos had once occupied. So many were dead from this act of terrorism.  
  
A cool, icy hate chilled his spark. So many would die for this, he vowed to the empty space's memory.  
  
Starscream would always keep his word.  
  



End file.
